The Red Plume
by Sincerely Marigold
Summary: A mysterious woman presents Lucy with the rare (and potentially rule-bending) opportunity to return to Narnia. Since it is all she has dreamed of for years, she accepts the offer and finds herself in the middle of a new and dangerous adventure alongside a familiar faun. Blatant Lumnus pairing, but very innocent. Story parallels slightly with the plot of Stravinsky's "The Firebird".
1. Chapter 1

The envelope passed through Edmund's fingers like a feather, just a flash of white in his periphery. For that one brief moment, it seemed weightless and free before making its final descent into the cylindrical belly of the large public letter box. Edmund listened for the tiny "pat" and turned on his heel to face the noisy London street once more. This was the exact ceremony that he'd choreographed on the train ride over- both abrupt and clean like the slice of a guillotine's blade.

While this action wouldn't be entirely detrimental to his career as an author, the death of this particular aspiration plagued Edmund's mind over the last week. He knew exactly what he was giving up, but he also knew that it would be selfish to pursue the idea to its fruition. Whether or not the editor he'd hired would mind was completely irrelevant at this point as a fat check slipped into the folds of his letter was intended to tie up any loose ends.

As the distance between Edmund and the letterbox grew, he muttered underneath his breath a saying he'd learned in a university composition course, "Murder your darlings." It was a terrible phrase, one that he'd never been particularly fond of, but it fit this occasion like an ugly glove. Perhaps one intended for moving around dirt or extracting worms from the earth while gardening. Unpleasant, but practical. It was particularly easy for Edmund to occupy his mind with the woes of having to cut the life of his novel short, but one worry inevitably faded into another as he neared his destination. On the horizon, the solemn grey structure of the hospital materialized.

Over the years, both Edmund and Lucy had become particularly close. Closer, in fact than Peter and Susan were at their age. Perhaps it is because they both managed to maintain a sort of youthful spirit that was doomed to dissipate over the years. But deep down, they both knew that it was because they could both see Narnia just as vividly in their memories as the day that they'd left. So, to ease this pain, they would would take any open opportunity to reminisce over tea. When Edmund departed for college, Lucy was left behind to finish her schooling alone and those fond conversations gradually thinned their way to dissipation like a wave of smoke on a steady breeze. Even those recurring themes like what became of their dear friends…

"I wonder", Lucy would like to query, as she twirled a wafer biscuit lazily through a cup of Devonshire tea, "what Mr. Tumnus made of our leaving Narnia unannounced."

Yes, it seemed as though Lucy asked this question whenever she had the chance to. Over time, Edmund figured that it was more of a plea for comfort instead of a search for some solid answer. So, whenever she asked, he would reply with a simple, "I'm certain he knew as well as you that the only way to move is forward." Normally to that, Lucy would pick up her chin and respond, less dolefully, "Let us hope," or with an occasional, "Yes, but I would certainly love to see him again."

His understanding for her pain would only grow in time. They'd grown up together twice, after all and even though Susan was the one to receive the information of Lucy's secret heartaches in full force while she was going through her adolescence in Narnia, Edmund always knew that Lucy's affection for Mr. Tumnus grew all the more keen with age and that leaving him behind did a number on her heart. So great a number, in fact, that she seemed to renounce matters of the heart with a few exceptions here and there, but she was always the one to lose interest in potential romance first.

At sixteen, the troubles began for Lucy. Initially, a fainting spell or two at school led to her completing her studies from home. When last he'd seen his sister, she was only on the verge of sickliness. She'd mailed him only months ago with word of her progress towards both recovery and a diagnosis.

Edmund received word from Peter earlier in the week that Lucy was in hospital, but not detrimentally ill. She was said to be in good spirits and after an uncomfortable wait in a chilly lobby for a visitor's pass, Edmund found her to be just that. She was unmistakably different in color and weight, but not nearly the weary specter that most ill loved ones often become. For this, Edmund was beyond thankful. Still, she was hardly well enough to shift her weight in order to receive the full extent of her brother's embrace, but this phased neither of them. It took only moments for the strangeness of the situation to cease and the two of them began chatting just as casually as ever.

"I find it hard to believe," Edmund began, taking a seat in a plain and poorly padded arm chair at Lucy's bedside, "that you'd been here for an entire week and I've only just heard. I would have come much sooner, believe me."

"Surely. But I've been in and out since the beginning of your semester. Besides, how lovely it must be to leave London! Even if it is for a few short months at a time." Lucy paused to collect herself, but found that her ability to filter her emotions continued to cease. "I'm very jealous, you know. I'd be starting not this fall, but the next. By then you might even have been my very own composition tutor!"

"There, there." Edmund coaxed, with complete faith that she was speaking with such weariness because she'd been cooped up for days at a time. Lucy so hated staying in one place for long. "You know as well as I that bed rest is a miracle worker. I can tell. It's already working! You have the healthiest glow on the floor. Surely, you're the envy of the ward!"

"I spend nearly all of my time reminiscing. Most of the women find that odd." It would seem to most that a girl so young would have no business reminiscing, but Edmund could understand this better than others, as you know.

"Lucy," he started. Surely, he'd contemplated not sharing this information with her sister, but as he thought, his eyes traveled down to the white sleeves of his cotton shirt and at once, they both saw that they were smudged with ink and quivering just barely with his unsteady hands. "There's something I must tell you. Only if you promise to hear me out and not be upset."

Lucy shook her head and glanced up at her brother, tiny bends of a simple smile flicked upward upon her lips. "I'm not upset, Edmund. You may think that it is selfish now, but I find it completely wonderful." After a moment, Lucy confirmed her knowledge to her brother. "You wrote about Narnia."

A hush. Longer than before. "How could you know that, Lucy?"

"Ours is a story that needs telling. It needs sharing! You're the only one of us with the talent to do it. Everything you've learned in college was in preparation for you to write about it. Don't you see? " Lucy stopped, trying with all her might to read her brother's expression, but found herself chuckling only moments later. "So are you going to let me read it?"

"My editor has it. Along with the letter that I mailed this morning, calling the project off."

"Well, you must telephone him at once! We'll still have two hours of visiting time at the very least when you return!"

When Edmund didn't move, Lucy thrust herself forward with all of her strength and snatched the handbag off of the table on her own. "Well, I'm not going to let this be the end of it, no sir!"

"Lucy, it wasn't even that good." He smiled as she continued to tear through her purse and after seeing her determination along with this new spark of energy that seemed to have awakened in her while speaking of the matter, caved. "You don't have to do that. I'm sure I heard some jingling coming from the bottom of my rucksack earlier. I'll make the call."

Lucy sat back, blowing back the locks of hair that had fallen over her eyes in the fit. "If anything, just get it back so I can read it. Why couldn't you have asked me to be your editor? It's not like I have anything to do around here, anyway!"

Edmund pulled Lucy close and kissed her forehead, momentarily unaware of her frailty. "I'll be back in ten."

Before he could gather his bearings and walk away, a woman appeared in the doorframe, as if out of nowhere. She was very peculiar looking- as though she was from another time. A tall and athletic woman with shining strands of thick black hair that were chopped cleanly off at her shoulders. Her features were almost too geometric and sharp to hold any kind of earthly beauty, from her rectangular nose to her slanted eyes that could have been made from the blue base flames of any London gas lamp, but there was beauty in her presentation, in her strength. A weighted manila folder was tucked beneath her bare, muscular arm indicating that she meant business. In what way, however, neither of them could tell.

"Terribly sorry to interrupt. A word in private with Miss Pevensie, please?" Her voice was bright and musical, cheerful enough to give them hope that this was, perhaps, fortunate news about Lucy's health.

Edmund stood. "Of course, I'll just go and make that call." As he brushed past her, a brilliant red feather pen fluttered, almost willingly from the woman's folder and onto the ground in front of Edmund. While he leant in to pick it up, she swept in with all of the determination and stealth of a famished bird of prey and removed it from his reach. All while in the process of going after her beloved red plume, a second item tumbled out of her folder. One that Edmund recognized immediately. It was the letter he'd send to his editor earlier that day. Although this woman was able to snatch it as well, she knew that she had lost. "What is going on?" Edmund inquired.

It was almost frightening to both of them how well this woman took the interrogation. Why, after the business of retrieving that curious pen and all. Her blue eyes glistened, joyously, in fact, as she tugged out a pair of rectangular reading glasses from her woolen sweater vest. She opened the folder and began moving pages around. "You really should look at the conclusion of chapter twenty nine, Miss Pevensie. It's quite good! My dear friend's description of this event lines up perfectly with Edmund's." Lucy leaned in, completely immersed and when the manila folder was extended in her direction, she seized it greedily and began flipping through it, no questions asked. Edmund, however, was lost in a world of discomfort and questions.

"Begging your pardon, but I believe that both of those artifacts are private property and were not intended for you, ma'am." He thundered just gently enough to show courtesy for the rest of the ward.

She remained unmoved. "And who, might I ask, were they intended for?"

"My personal editor. It's right there on the envelope. CJ Thelsey, Newport. And for one week's shipping time, no less, that letter is property of England's Parcel Services. I should have you arrested."

Lucy disengaged from her reading. "Wait- your friend being whom? I am so lost."

Edmond wasn't quite ready to remove himself from the argument. "And furthermore, I've heard tell that my editor is not only a respected theatre scholar, but a bona fide peregrinator! Climbed Everest in a t-shirt, flown through the Bermuda Triangle at least seven times, outran all of the bulls in Spain! You don't want to upset this CJ gentleman..."

"Okay, first those are all complete exaggerations and second, your poor sister is trying to get a word in. I think we should let her."

Lucy looked at both of them and lowered her eyes in weakness and exhaustion from the fighting. "Who are you?"

"Solving this once and for all. My name is Calliope Joy Thelsey. My nom de plume being CJ Thesley. I am a humble instructor of poetry in Newport and am currently in debt from previous adventures, neither of which are so extravagant as brother-dearest has described. Regardless, I'm forced to work as an editor and librarian to make ends meet and to keep myself from going completely mad. Or at least, it is a fantastic cover. I was not born here. I do not belong here. And yet, I have always come here out of my own will. That is where your brother comes in. You see, not only do I want to help his story along, I need his story to help myself and my sister find some sort of resolve." She stopped. "But moreso, to help Lucy and a friend. Someone who cared very deeply for Lucy and who was left just about broken hearted by her leaving."

Edmund could see Lucy's face grow white. They both knew of whom she spoke. "That was so long ago. So far away." She closed the folder and placed it on her pillow, a tiny tear appearing in the corner of her eye.

Edmond scowled, troubled by his sister's pain and went to comfort her, but it was clear by his expression that he was still preplexed. "And the premature delivery of the letter? I won't believe this until there is an explanation for that."

"Why of course, your honor." Calliope sighed. My work requires that I come to London monthly to retrieve books from the post office. You were given my work address. It happened to be at the top of the pile when I walked in. It was by no magic, merely coincidence. But a happy coincidence. Some things are meant to be. Before you ask about how I was able to find you today, you must understand that I've been fascinated by you and your family from the minute I finished reading through that first draft. I am not an enemy."

After a long silence, Edmund opened his mouth to speak, but it was Lucy who spoke instead. "How can I help?"

"I'm still unsure of that, myself. I am here to retrieve you. When you're ready." She crossed to the door from which she'd appeared.

Out of the two of them, Lucy was the first to believe that Calliope was telling the truth. Had she been well, she would have jumped to her feet and raced through the door without question. But that was not the case. No. Instead, they both sat in silence for a while, avoiding one another's eyes.

Edmund lowered his head. "Troubling. Very troubling, indeed."

"How's that?" Lucy replied, mechanically.

He seized her shoulders gently and turned her inward so that she was the only thing in his line of vision- not Calliope, not the door. Her eyes, though blue and clear were plagued with dark flesh around the edges. "Troubling because it is the truth. Troubling that you wish to go. And must." He breathed. "And I'd rather you be there than here, my sweet."

The question of whether or not Edmund could go, too swamed around in Lucy's mind. She'd always believed that all things were possible. But that thought extinguished itself as she reviewed everything that had happened over the course of this strange visit. In its place, a new question revealed itself. "Will I return? I mean, this isn't like- like dying?"

"I cannot speak to that." Calliope chimed, grinning like a Cheshire Cat as seemed habitual for her. "All that I can say is that I've bounced back and forth between worlds like a ping pong ball for years. In sickness and in health. For better or worse."

Though this was meant to ease the mood, somehow it didn't. Lucy couldn't shake what she knew in her heart. She would not return. "What about Susan and Peter? What about our parents? I can't leave without saying goodbye. I've seen the harm that it can do."

"For this circumstance, I'm afraid, there is no goodbye that they will understand. Just like Tumnus." Edmund smiled to see Lucy react to his name. "The only way to move is forward."

A familiar glow of strength returned Lucy's face. But as she thought, it flickered on and off like a moribund lightbulb. "But am I allowed to cry?" She whispered, wanting no one but her brother to hear.

"No. No, absolutely not." He teased, opening his arms for a final embrace. "If you start, I may start and then that terribly peculiar woman in the doorway will undoubtedly start, too and a room full of sobbing nutters will draw to much attention to this low key meeting. And we don't want you to lose this "get out of jail for free" card for anything in the world." As he rambled, Lucy embraced him, not shushing him once. Edmund was always one to get carried away, but Lucy was never bothered by this because she was exactly the same way.

She broke away and allowed her feet to touch the floor. An unknown strength was born in her as she brushed Edmund's hand aside in hopes of standing on her own, but once she was stable, she realized that it would be good for both of them if her brother accompanied her to where Calliope stood waiting. The motion of each step hardly seemed neither quick enough- nor slow enough. Lucy felt as though she was returning to her forever home in exchange for a potentially lonely forever. There was no way of knowing how she would find Narnia this time and who would be there waiting on the other side. All of these questions, however, were exciting in a way. And it was the sweet divinity of the unknown kept her going toward her destiny. Through the door. When Edmund made it to the other side, he found that he was completely alone. Both Calliope and Lucy were nowhere to be found.


	2. Chapter 2

There is no denying that before all of this happened, Lucy spent long hours dreaming up various returns to Narnia. Sometimes, she thought that it would involve a portal like the wardrobe or the picture frame. Why, even the same doorway in the hospital that Calliope appeared in was on her list of possibilities long before it actually happened. There were other options, however. Silly ones, scary ones, happy ones, sad ones, ones that involved disappearing into cookie jars, becoming sidetracked in a funhouse, or similarly being asked to participate in a vanishing act at a fair in Covent Garden. But despite the old saying, "getting there is half the fun", most of Lucy's thoughts in regards to a return were governed by what it would be like once she was there. What would be asked of her? Who would ask it? Would she be strong enough to fulfill it? As ever, this impending challenge would come as a complete surprise to Lucy.

A turbulent entrance followed an otherwise flawless transition from one world to the next. One minute, Lucy and Calliope were passing through the doorway and the next, they were face down in the earth. As Lucy lifted her face, she could see a silver knife hurling through the air toward her. With a squeal, she tucked her face down so that it was barely touching the tender spring grass below it and coved her head tightly. She could feel the air spinning between herself and the blade and knew for certain that there was absolutely no stopping it from tearing through her arm. Lucy braced herself, allowed the knife to make as clean of an entry as escape and gave herself a split second to attempt to steal a glance at the perpetrator.

Given the circumstances, Lucy wagered that she was on a battlefield of some sort, but when she (ever so cautiously) lifted her head, she saw that it was, instead a makeshift training course full of lazily painted targets and faceless dummies made from burlap and twine and overflowing with an assortment of pine needles, bark and leaves. Many of these already had either arrows or a familiar silver knife lodged in them. "Comforting that nobody is trying to slice me in two on purpose." She thought to herself, remembering to check up on the severity of her wounded arm. Before she could do so, however another flash of silver came spiraling through the air and straight through her core.

Whether it was the actual impact of the throw or a psychological matter that made Lucy fall over was completely irrelevant. Still, she was beyond surprised that while the knife ran her through, she suffered no injury. It was as though she was never hit at all. A quick glance at her arm proved that it was the same for the latter.

"Even though they don't draw blood, the act of hurling magical knives at someone that you can clearly see is still violent! And just so... just morally wrong." Lucy moaned from the ground, hoping to reach some sort of resolve through her complaints.

Calliope's voice chimed in from behind. "She isn't throwing them at you."

As Calliope came into sight, Lucy saw that she'd undergone a significant physical change. While she was still the muscular and energetic black haired woman that she'd met at the hospital, she'd taken a form that Lucy would recognize anywhere. Her upper torso was almost completely human, topped two narrow that were just as black and shiny as the hair on her head. Her face was very much the same, apart from her ears and the slight alteration of her narrow nose. In short, Calliope was a fauness.

Lucy attempted to sit in hopes of getting a better look at her friend's new identity but- yet another knife flung through the air, passing straight through Lucy's head. "Whatever this is, make it stop."

Calliope, pure energy as ever, nodded and started to race on her quick new legs toward a space beyond the clearing where the dreadful flying knives were being produced. "Pomona!" She yelled happily. "Pom! Pom! Pom! Guess who!?"

It was not a minute later that the space below erupted into a dreadful mixture of Calliope's laughter and a cavalcade of ill mannered threats from who Lucy believed to be this Pomona character. Her voice, like Calliope's was bell-like, though albeit loud, but was different in the sense that it possessed an occasional shrill or harsh timbre.

"Calliope, you wretched little sneak! If you weren't so quick, I'd no longer have you as a hindrance. En garde!"

While Pomona was occupied with... whatever was going on downhill in the trees, Lucy found that she was, for the time being, relieved of flying knives. The gunshot dialogue between the two voices carried on for a few minutes longer and then they gradually made for the clearing, still lost in swordplay. By now, Lucy could see that Pomona, a fauness, like Calliope bore a resemblance to her counterpart. She, too, was powerful looking with a fair complexion and dark hair, shorter in length. As Lucy moved forward, Pomona took an even more defined form and there wasn't a doubt in her mind that these two fauns were sisters.

She kept her distance until, at last, Pomona threw down her sister on the grass. Despite her clearly competitive nature, Calliope took the defeat in stride. "Foiled again!" She laughed, dusting herself off and attempting to pull Pomona in for a hug. There was a small cringe, but she accepted it.

Driven by an urge to introduce herself, Lucy picked herself up and made for where they stood. As she walked, she clapped her hands in praise for their epic dual she'd just seen the end of. Calliope caught sight of her and turned, but Pomona didn't stir in the slightest.

"What you looking at, Opie?" She asked, moving her fingers through her black locks that were boyishly short in length. "Do you see another ghost?"

"I do, indeed, sweet baby sister! The abominable ghost of St. Lulu is making her descent from the lofty hilltops to wreak havoc on the fauness who has thrown too many knives in her general direction!"

"It's always the same story with you! You turn up from out of nowhere every other year or so just to mock me! Then you disappear before allowing me to take a swing at you, myself." She grabbed her by the arm as if to make sure that she wouldn't make any kind of an escape. "Well, here it is. I think that you are an erratic little imp with no real ambitions or regard for anyone but yourself. And don't think for a moment that this is coming from me alone! My husband doesn't think any higher of you."

"Erratic, but charming. Those were the words that I used." Chimed a familiar voice.

Lucy's heart rose to the brim of her throat. It was him! "Tumnus!" She shouted, almost forgetting all possibilities that she was a ghost. But nobody noticed. Not even Calliope, who was too busy moving toward her long lost friend, herself. He'd hardly changed a bit, though there was a sort of melancholy about him that Lucy couldn't quite put her finger on. "I've missed you so." She whispered, knowing that he would never hear.

"Honestly, this is why us blokes spend all of our time chasing wood nymphs! Faunesses are militant enough by themselves, but they'll fight to the death out of pure sport if you leave them unattended with one another. Even when they're as devoted to each other as you two." He gave Calliope a tiny kiss on the forehead. "Now, what did you bring back to me from the land of the living, ay?"

Pomona threw her arms up in disinterest and began throwing knives at unspecified targets in the distance once more.

"I have a few things. Would you like to move someplace more comfortable? All of these weapons coincided with raging fauness estrogen may prove to be a distraction."

"I would like nothing more." He grinned. "Pom? Meet us back inside for tea. And try not to bring any battleaxes in the house this time." He leaned over and whispered in Calliope's ear, "We've only just replaced the countertops. Carrots julienne. Not pretty."

To this, both Lucy and Calliope alike couldn't help but chuckle. For the first time during this awkward conversation, Calliope looked directly at Lucy. Her sharp little mouth twisted into a smile and she jerked her head as a gesture for Lucy to follow them.

"Giggle all you like, kids. Just remember, I'm the one with the knives." Pomona mumbled, retrieving a target that had been concealed by leaves in the nearby wood.

"You're going to love what I brought this time around." Calliope beamed, taking Tumnus by the arm. They moved into the woods, Lucy following behind and feeling quite left out. "I was able to return to England at the precise point that I'd left off and by some shining chance, found contact with none other than Edmund Pevensie at my work. He began mailing me written pieces about Narnia to edit and it was then that I knew I had a nibble!"

Tumnus appeared to be very pleased with this, indeed. "Rather!"

"Sadly, he mailed me this morning, calling the project off. I was able to bring the letter along for you. It contains information about Lucy as well."

The look that came to Tumnus' face was enough to break Lucy's heart in two. He disengaged and although she had yet to tell him about his dear friend's failing health, he looked altogether sad and distanced at once. "I don't know if I'd like to hear about Lucy at this point." He took a moment to collect himself. "Is she well?"

What Calliope asked next was completely unexpected, and yet, it was exactly what Lucy had hoped she might ask. "Heavens, Tums! What did that silly Daughter of Eve do to hurt you so!?"

He picked up his pace until he was practically dragging Calliope along behind him. "You already know the answer to that."

Surely, this was more for Lucy's benefit than Calliope's. She hardly seemed the romantic type. Tumnus stopped and let out a tiny sigh. "Or rather, I'd hinted it enough over the years. I was certain you already knew. She grew on me. Grew on me so much, in fact, that by the time she was a young woman and we were entirely inseparable, I- we- or at least, I think we did. Perhaps I felt more than she." He stammered. "Then to leave without saying goodbye!"

Calliope looked behind her shoulder at Lucy, who clearly wanted a more precise answer. Thinking that this was, perhaps, the kind of catharsis her friend would need, she pressed the matter further "You mean to say you loved her?"

"I believe I did, yes. At a time."

"Would you believe me if I said that Lucy loved you, too?"

"How could anyone ever know?"

"What I mean to say is..." Calliope turned to steal another glance at Lucy, but she'd moved since then and was approaching Tumnus from the side. She watched, hopelessly as Lucy stretched her hand out and tried to graze the edge of his face, but it passed through her fingers like one of Pomona's knives. "Would you believe it if you saw it in writing?"

Lucy stopped. What did she mean? Surely she had no such evidence on her.

Tumnus seemed to be taken aback by this. "Calliope, my dearest friend, you need to swear it. You need to swear before all things that you hold dear on Narnia and Earth that this is the truth or I will see to it that you will never explore so much as a vacant hat box for the remainder of your days."

"Seeing is believing." Calliope replied, beaming with confidence. "You still have the paper and quill, I assume? Good. Come along, Lucy, keep up."

"You're wicked. Just like your sister." It was hard to tell whether he was jesting or being serious. Lucy thought that perhaps it was a bit of both.

When they arrived at his house, Lucy found it to be entirely the same as the first time she'd beheld it, with the exception of the new countertop. During her reign, he'd lived in the palace as a royal subject and had no need to return, so it was surprising that he'd remained there all those years.

He went over to the bookcase and pulled the familiar copy of "Is Man a Myth". When he put it on the tabletop and turned the title page, Lucy saw that it had been hollowed out and was full of trinkets. More than likely, ones that Calliope had collected for him over the years. He removed a small black notebook, from which he pulled a sheet of paper and then gestured to Calliope to which she responded by pulling a familiar red feather pen out from a space behind her ear that it must have inconspicuously lived all this while. Both articles were placed on the table in front of a large arm chair and gestured out into the air that Lucy- wherever she was could sit and write.

With hardly any hesitation, Lucy sat down. "I write, he reads?" She asked, readying her hand.

Calliope nodded. "Simple enough, don't you think?"

"What did she ask you?" Tumnus said, leaning against the arm chair in which Lucy sat.

To this, Lucy lifted Calliope's pen and wrote her reply in the corner of the page.

 _I write, he reads?_

 _-Lucy_

Still in disbelief, Tumnus decided to ask the ghost a series of questions before proceeding. "Okay, Lucy. If that is you. What did you give me upon our first meeting?"

 _Why, a handkerchief, of course!_

 _Do you still have it?_

"Now, how could you have known that?"

 _Just a hunch..._

All of a sudden, Tumnus grew rather embarrassed. "About what I said on the way over..."

 _I think your wife is at the door._

And correct she was, for at that moment, Pomona came through the door, paying little attention to what Tumnus and Calliope were doing. "You do know that ye olde act of having tea doesn't work unless someone first _makes_ tea to be had." She moaned, closing the door behind herself and making for the kitchen where she pulled out a kettle, filled it with water and crossed to the fireplace, across from where they sat. The quill pen had only just finished levitating, but it was too late. She'd already caught a glimpse of its movements.

"Haunted quill! Opie purchased it from a magician in Russia."

Fortunately, Pomona hardly seemed interested. "Oh. Of course, the only things magical on earth being gimmicky magicians and ghosts. What a dreary place." She moaned, "Well, I am going to go on a firewood run. We're low. When the kettle whistles, take it off. And save me a cup's worth" , and left them alone once more.

 _She seems sad._ Lucy wrote.

"That's just how she is. She's been that way the whole time. There's no helping it now."

 _Your sister brought me here for a reason- to help you. All of you. That is what I intend to do. I'm just waiting for her direction._

In the heavy silence, Lucy could felt as though she could almost hear Calliope thinking, like she had the answer on the tip of her tongue and was merely having trouble putting it into words. Finally, she whispered something. A single word, perhaps even a name and it was hardly audible, but to Lucy it sounded like she had said "parade-o" or perhaps even "afraid-o". Whatever it was, Tumnus reacted to it without haste. He placed his hand on the tiny leather bound book that had lived inside of _Is Man a Myth_ and contained the papers that he'd pulled for Lucy to write on earlier.

"Then you'll be needing this." He took a moment and moved his fingers across the cover, it seemed as though he didn't want to let it go. "This will change everything. What if Aslan-"

"Aslan understands better than most that destiny has a way of falling into our own hands. I don't know how well it will help you or I. But it _will_ help us. Even Lucy! And Pomona. Pomona most of all."

And so, gradually, very gradually, Tumnus removed his hand and gave the book a tiny shove towards Lucy. He knelt, trying with all his might to catch a glimpse of the supernatural life force that sat in the chair before him. His eyes- clear and blue as the shallows at the seashore, scanned it a hundred times over, but to no avail. Both Lucy and Calliope let him try for a minute more, knowing that this was a special moment. After allowing him to come close, close enough for his face to pass right through her own and move away, Lucy wrote:

 _I have loved you since I was sixteen and that love followed me across worlds, across ages. So when all else fails, believe this: you haven't been forgotten and you are loved._

"Likewise." He said, looking straight ahead. He would never know it, but this time, he was looking her straight in the eye. Just a flip of the cover later, both Tumnus and his house vanished into darkness.

Although they were in something of a momentary purgatory there in the darkness, a feeling of forward motion propelled Lucy and Calliope through time and space. This created a sensation similar to one that you might have when passing through a tunnel with your eyes shut. That being said, it was not a comfortable place to be and Lucy's discomfort would only grow when Calliope began to speak.

"Don't drop it." Lucy heard her say, which prompted her to seek the notebook's location. Fortunately, it appeared to have been lodged safely in her hands sometime during this transition. "Don't talk. Just listen." Calliope continued. "I have about thirty seconds to give you instructions before you're on your own. You needn't read it. Never do its work by turning a page or closing it, no matter how painful it becomes. This will all make sense to you very soon. Best of luck to you, Lucy Pevensie." Her voice trailed further from where Lucy was, cutting helplessly through this unknown force.

No more than ten seconds later, the motion stopped. A sort of pale gray light splashed itself across the prickly formations that made up the black trees in a dormant wood. There was a sprinkling of snow from the heavens and a shallow accumulation on the dead grasses below Lucy's feet. She'd seen nearly all of Narnia at one point or another, but this space was a sort of unrecognizable limbo. A somber wasteland of withered dandelions and misshapen shrubberies. At first, Lucy could have sworn that she'd landed in the wrong place. Then, the echo of familiar voices filled the void.

"If you think that's unusual, just wait until I tell you about their workplace formalities!" The bright and forward voice that Lucy recognized to be Calliope's rang out, bouncing hither and thither throughout the wood. She was the first to appear from behind the lifeless trees. Although it was evident that she was younger, she looked very much the same. She was followed by a young, beardless faun that Lucy knew to be Tumnus the second she saw him.


End file.
